The Pocket-Magpies

featured in the poetry forum January 20, 2022  :: 0 comments

I’ll trade a Sampson Mordan
ruby glass vinaigrette bottle
a third full of the heartbroken
tears of a ‘tricked’ virgin
3 weeks away from dollymop
… for some dry powder,
a skull & bones Gate-Pass…
and a partway-sincere kiss.
Nah, stay away from Uptown
… the house burglary
turned nasty, ugly and fatal
… you can smell the Murder
across most of the Borough.
Let Sammy know I’m ‘round,
I’ll be in the Jack O’ Spades
just afore midnight next
with The Dockside Knives
… they’re inching Territory.
Ha! they not be sex manacle
wrist-wounds… I’m villain…
they only proper heal in Clink.
Later, yeah… be lucky, girl…
yer looking more and more
like yer dear old mother
with each passing 12 month
… I drank so much Belch
I lost two toes and a finger…
the day they swung her Dead.

editors note:

A fond memory, mangled in a midnight melee. – mh clay

A [New Year’s Eve Party] Syncope [Dialogue] Collage

featured in the poetry forum December 29, 2021  :: 0 comments

“… no-no, don’t Corner me, please…
you’re the one with the ‘Words’
… I’ve not been avoiding… you,
I’ve been periphery hovering
… nah, thank you, this ‘Distance’
is good… and necessary…
your ‘Fluidity’ is quite unnerving.
OMG… you’re actually
using ‘Patience’ and ‘Politeness’
as Chess-Moving Weapons
… don’t ‘Smile’… oh dear.
Yes, she explained to you, right?
… aye, ‘Vasovagal’… it’s a bitch.
As long as you stay… Over There
… I’ll be just fine… jittery though,
did we just actually ‘Tune-In’?
Like a straining dog on a leash
… what a bizarre feeling…
it kicked-off in adolescence
… I always hated it until right now.
Oooh, she’s right about you…
you talk with your fingers too
… mhm, me also, very much…
thanks for being such a Gentleman…”

editors note:

It’s not what to bring or how to dress; but what to say that makes the mess. – mh clay

Sorry, But We’re Busy… Tonight We’re Invading Jackson Pollock’s No. 5, 1948 Via Hallucinogenics

featured in the poetry forum October 30, 2021  :: 0 comments

The feel of ‘drizzle’
upon the bottom
of naked feet
after shoulder-squeezing
under the ‘drip’
… is like
smoothly whipped custard
and liquid crayons…
embracing enthusiastically.
Don’t stop me now
… for fuck sake,
outta the way whilst I
whoooooooossssh!
We’ve captured ‘falling’
inside a delicate ‘feeling’
… matchbox it for later.
I see no discarded eggshells?
… controlled ‘mayhem’

tuned-in-so-tight-it’s-breath-taking

complicated self-harm…
and the violence of cackle.
The ‘trick’ is to ‘open’
before you get
your ‘narrow’ on, yeah
… and slide
at the exact moment
that others stall.
Now, study memory later
… present tense is ‘energy’
let’s limbo barbed wire
deeper-in… tut-tut,
me first… or I’ll hurt you.

editors note:

Learning how not to truncate your freak-out. – mh clay

A Servant, I Know, Who Plots

featured in the poetry forum August 4, 2021  :: 0 comments

I stand under no-one else’s umbrella
… I owe nothing to anyone,
except… point-blank Cold Shoulder.
I speak through hawk-plumage,
and in razors-so-sharp… you bleed,
internally, later
… when I have removed myself
far from ‘Suspect’ musical-chair.
I don’t ‘Wager’ I ‘Take’ and Leave
… ‘Vantage Points’ Trapped.
I say the word ‘Tangerine’ often,
it sickens me… but, it reassures,
fools of some childhood thing or other
… and disguises the Predator,
hiding behind that false colour,
shape, and texture… STRIKE!
‘Unbalance’ differs with onion-layers,
the surgery of Interest,
works better dressed in a uniform
of cold, almost theatrical Indifference.
I salute you, fake-sincerely
… a traceless smile within my
heart-that-pumps-nothing-but-piss…
as I lead you forward whilst following.

editors note:

Run for cover when you hear, “Tangerine!” – mh clay

Backwards, Briefly, Into A Fragmented Nostalgic Interlude, Of Sorts

featured in the poetry forum May 3, 2021  :: 0 comments

The word ‘Bellowing’
is a lion’s yawn,
in imagery.
Her hands are timeless,
when kneading dough
… I can see
her shifting ‘Costumes’
back through the ages,
as her fingers work.
Dogs always look like
‘That’ when scratching
… and 3 flying ducks
hung above a fireplace,
always make me feel
nostalgic, & homesick
for the ‘Childhood’
that I should have had.

editors note:

Tested triggers, bitter recall; what was over wasn’t. – mh clay

The Chrysalis Touch

featured in the poetry forum February 9, 2021  :: 0 comments

Wow, and absolutely fucking Wow again!
Last time I saw her…
it was a mugshot in the local newspaper,
dirty hair all-dragged-up in a scalp-bunch
crowning a drawn, scabby, drug-face.
She’d just been given Anger Management,
and a 12-month Conditional Discharge,
with £150 in Fine and Court Costs…
for taking an ex-girlfriend hostage,
and threatening to slice off her perfect toes…
First Offense, and a looming stint in Rehab
… legally, it sounded about ‘Even’ to me.
That must have been over a year ago now
… and I just clocked her swishing, oh yeah,
fucking Swishing her way up the High Street.
Face all full and healthy, eyes glistening,
crap-British-sunshine bouncing off her hair
… and wearing a thin floral, cotton dress,
that would look shit on anybody else but her.
There was a trail of heads a-turning behind
(both male & female) as she swaggered by.
She half-smiled, as she passed me standing
“Wotcher, Pauly… long time no see, hunni.”
I reciprocated the warm affection right back
“Just keep doing what you’re doing, love…
because Lady Luck is your bitch right now.”

editors note:

When you’re no more the bitch; swish, baby, swish! – mh clay

When I Return From A Good Fortnight Of A-Drinking & A-Whoring … In The Self-Absorbed Cocoon Of My Recovery I Oftentimes Forget The Sad Plight Of The Common, Little Man

featured in the poetry forum November 9, 2020  :: 0 comments

My, my, my, I almost made the delicious
Sunflower Sky explode, lushly,
whilst romantically reminiscing
about our ‘Lover’s Tryst’
in that bit of woodland waste ground
out the back of the Abortion Clinic,
back in good ol’ 1969
… yeah, I know neither one of us
was actually born yet, but in cosmic terms,
it was but an excitable, Energy Preface,
to our coming meeting and courtship
this side of the Eternal Spiritual River.

I like how our ‘Chain-Links’
work only by way of ‘Mutual Will’ alone,
how our Thoughts leG-Up each other
over Mental Walls and Barriers
… and how BOTH our Lips
taste exactly like apple-and-plum-pie
the very moment we smirk whilst kissing.

editors note:

Destiny or dumb luck; love is best when smirking a kiss. – mh clay

Middle Poem from A Delicately Debauched & Fractured (Lowlife) Disasterpiece

featured in the poetry forum August 22, 2020  :: 0 comments

…I garrotted myself, fantastically
with despicable arrogance.
Laughing, dementedly,
at the little, innocent boy
I have ‘Dorian Gray’s Painting’
locked away inside my Soul
…who always gets to pay
the twisted, fucked-up price
of the punishment for my Sins.
That ‘Pulsing’ between Pain
is sticky to the mental-touch,
and extremely addictive…
it sense-smells of yawning,
falling, and broken cockle shells.
It’s almost that time of the month
where I go completely insane…
it’s got fuck-all to do with lunar,
that erratic-thought napalm
has gotta come out at some point.
I was twenty steps behind her,
I froze [Silently] upon the pavement
…and she spun around smiling
“How long have you been there?”
We demand the Truth
until we become an ingredient
in that [Complicated] equation.
We went on a night-time picnic,
we ate amphetamine-bombs,
drank ancient French red wine
and carved blood-flowers
into our post-sex, pale white skin.
“There are no Time-Keepers here”
I whispered, between, distant sighs.
“Only Collectors Of Memories”
she said, confirming, everything.
“I didn’t want to be a Ballerina
back when I was a young girl…
I just wanted to find other folk
who viewed things, sideways,
and felt with their beating-hearts
instead of black-and-white minds.”
I have a ‘Penny Jar’ at my abode
with a label written in calligraphy
‘For All Those Future Experiments
& Experiences Worth Remembering’
and no matter how much money I insert
it’s almost always close to being empty…

editors note:

Too often, what beat we seek turns out sadly, black-and-white. – mh clay

The Heathen Health Clinic & STD Support Centre

featured in the poetry forum June 6, 2020  :: 0 comments

Oi! matey, yeah, I’m a-talking to you…
with the pirate swagger going on,
leave your cutlass in the weapon’s rack
out in the cloakroom, please.
Same goes for your battle-axe,
Mr. Brick ‘Outhouse,
with the horns on his cap.
We’ve got quite a few
nasty viruses running ‘bout the place,
I’ll have you know,
and the last thing we need is paper cuts.
Oh lovely, the Waiting Room’s
choc-a-bloc this afternoon,
mind you, we’re still dealing
with all that tailback
from this morning’s nightmare…
one trollop from the Dock Area
completely decimated
the 40 Thieves Gang.
Anyway, it’s Cindy, our Receptionist’s,
21st Birthday today,
we had a bit of a finger-buffet
during our Lunch Break…
and she’s been kind enough
to lay the leftovers out for you all…
but for Christ Sake, use the box
of disposable gloves afore dipping-in, OK.
Now, my name’s Victoria,
and I’ll be leading you on through,
one at a time, in an orderly fashion…
let’s start with the ‘Explosive Element’
… leaking, have we got any ‘Leakers’ in?

editors note:

Here’s a scene that will repeat, long after the pandemic has passed. – mh clay

Subculture Degenerate

featured in the poetry forum March 26, 2020  :: 0 comments

Swaggering up the Evening’s Thoroughfare,
then staggering back lanes come the morning
… I’ve started audio-hallucinating Sirens?
There are many different meanings to a ‘Smile’
when living between the Emergency Rooms,
Public Taverns, and City’s Custody Suites
… and not one of them resembles Happiness.
Yesterday, I caught myself, a-flirting
absent-mindedly, whilst cadging a fag,
with an unkempt, wearily-pretty thing
stood smoking outside the STD Clinic gates
… she chuckled, cutely, when she observed
‘Reality’ finally invade my bloodshot eyes.
I am a ‘Gutter-Sponge’ of the darkest order,
my purpose is to Absorb and Regurgitate.
Society gets the poetry it fucking-well deserves
… and I’m the Bastard, Step-child of that Fury.

editors note:

Quick! Get your catch bucket. – mh clay